


On your Knees

by Lassenby



Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games)
Genre: Bondage, Drugging, Gangbang, M/M, Rape, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:47:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24544867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lassenby/pseuds/Lassenby
Summary: An Olog captain breaks free of the Bright Lord's control, captures Talion, and teaches him a lesson about subjugation.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	On your Knees

Talion sprinted across the battlefield with his sword raised. Focused on the Uruk captain in front of him and the berserkers racing toward him on both sides, he took for granted that the Olog hai behind him, with the handprint still emblazoned onto his face like a brand, still held loyalty to the Bright Lord.

It wasn’t so.

The Olog--Daruk the Guardian--hit Talion hard in the back of the head. Talion slammed into the ground. His sword clattered away across the flagstones. Through swimming vision, he saw an Uruk pick it up.

“I got his weapon!” the Uruk yelled, blade raised triumphantly.

“Get up,” Celebrimbor hissed.

Talion tried, but his body felt impossibly heavy. Then he realized the Olog had his knee pressed into his back, pinning him down with his full weight.

Daruk wrenched Talion’s arms behind his back. He leaned down, hot breath blowing over the ranger’s neck.

“How does it feel, Gravewalker?” Daruk growled into Talion’s ear. “To be under my control?”

“You will regret this,” Talion said. He strained beneath the Olog and failed to move an inch.

Daruk laughed.

“I don’t think I will. Even if you end up killing me, I don’t think I’ll regret this one bit.” To the uruks, he shouted; “Oy! You lot! Get me a rope so I can truss up this tark.”

Someone brought the rope, and it took three Uruks to hold Talion still while Daruk stuffed his hands into a burlap sack, then cinched it tight with the bindings.

“You’re not so clever, tark. I remember how you make your slaves,” Daruk said.

Talion’s heart sank. He had hoped his captors would get careless. If he could have grappled even a low ranking Uruk into the Bright Lord’s service, they could have cut him loose. But this Olog was no fool.

“What should we do with him?” an Uruk asked.

“Find Krim,” Daruk ordered. “Have him meet me at the Apothecary.”

“Should he come alone?”

“Nah. Tell him to bring as many friends as he wants. The more the merrier.” Daruk grinned.

The sight of his glistening fangs brought Talion no comfort.

* * *

Before long, Talion stood in a large circular chamber, held in place by Daruk’s hand gripping the collar of his cloak.

Shelves ran along the walls, on which were jars containing small pickled creatures and viscera. Hides hung from the walls, along with dried herbs and other things Talion couldn’t identify. Fine white dust covered the floor.

A cauldron squatted in the center of the room, filled with frothing purple liquid. Steam poured over the sides and rolled over the floor. The room was warm and filled with a thick floral smell.

After they’d barely been there a minute, a gaggle of Uruks poured in through the doorway. They surrounded Talion, shouting and shoving and swinging at him. Talion, arms bound behind his back and Daruk firmy scruffing him by the cloak, couldn’t escape their blows.

A punch to the gut drove the wind out of him.

“Back off, ya globs!” Daruk barked. “If you kill him, he’ll just come back somewhere else.”

“Aw,” said one of the Uruks. “I thought we was gonna play with him.”

“Oh, we will. But not yet!” It was Krim who had spoken, trailing behind the band of Uruks. His shrill voice echoed in the stone chamber.

The captain was dusted all over with the same white sand that carpeted the chamber, turning him pale. His face was painted into a skull-like mask. Within the dark pits around his eyes, his irises glowed like two green embers.

Krim the Warlock. Not long ago, Talion had held a squealing worm by the throat and learned of this Uruk captain’s talent for black magic.

The other uruks parted as Krim strode up to Talion.

Krim unsheathed an obsidian dagger, its hilt encrusted with rubies, and brandished it between Talion’s eyes.

Daruk jerked Talion back. “What did I just tell you?”

The Warlock snarled. “I’m not going to kill him! I just need a bit of material.”

Watching Krim with a suspicious glare, Daruk held Talion steady.

Talion refused to flinch as Krim dragged the tip of the blade up his forehead. The cut was shallow but bled freely.

The Warlock dragged an open palm across Talion’s face, smearing blood. Then he limped over to the cauldron and thrust his hand into the frothing purple liquid.

Light flashed inside the cauldron. The steam turned oily black, oozing across the floor like tar.

“Drink,” Krim commanded, holding a flask of the vile liquid up to Talion’s lips.

“Do not drink,” Celebrimbor said inside Talion’s mind, as if he needed to be told.

Talion pursed his lips.

“Tilt his head back and hold his nose,” Krim said.

Daruk yanked Talion’s head back by the hair, pinching his nose shut with his other hand.

Talion’s lungs screamed out for air. It took every fiber of his will to stave off a gasp. But it was all for nothing. As blackness crowded his vision, a firm hand gripped his chin and pried his mouth open.

Oily, coppery tasting liquid coated his tongue. Talion thrashed, but Daruk held him tightly.

The foul liquid trickled down Talion's throat, burning all the way down. When it hit his belly, tendrils of heat began to spread throughout his limbs. The potion’s effect was like warm lead. Talion sagged under its weight.

Talion felt the effect rising into his head. The sensation was like floating- bobbing up the eyeballs in a warm, honey colored sea.

Talion could still feel his body, but it felt distant. Not quite his own anymore.

“Drop him,” Krim commanded. His shrill voice sounded far away.

Daruk let go of Talion.

Somehow, the Ranger remained on his feet, swaying slightly. His traitorous body refused to flee.

Daruk circled around to the front of Talion, studying the drugged ranger.

“I had Krim make this potion special for you, Gravewalker. I want you to feel what you inflict on us. To know what it's like to be controlled.”

A cold dagger of fear slipped between Talion’s ribs. He strained again, not against Daruk’s grip, but against the weight filling his limbs. Not even a muscle twitched.

“Kneel,” Daruk ordered.

The room swam up around Talion.

No...the room hadn’t moved. Talion had dropped to his knees.

He stared up in wide eyed horror at the Olog towering him.

Daruk grinned. He cupped Talion’s entire face in one massive hand, an almost tender gesture.

“You are mine,” he rumbled. “I am your master.”

“I am yours,” Talion said, his voice a cracked whisper through rubbery lips. He hadn’t meant to speak.

The Olog’s thumb trailed down Talion’s cheek. When Daruk reached his lips, his thumb pushed between them and pried the ranger’s mouth open.

Talion tried to bite. He imagined his jaw snapping shut, teeth cleaving through flesh and bone. Instead, his jaw remained slack, cradled in Daruk’s palm.

“I’m going to enjoy playing with you,” Daruk admitted. With his free hand, he began unbuckling his belt.

The dagger of fear twisted in Talion’s chest.

Talion had never seen what an Olog hai concealed beneath their garments, nor had he tried to imagine it. Now he found himself confronted with Daruk’s cock.

Pumped to semi-hardness in his fist, the Olog’s cock was not unlike a human’s, but on a massive scale.

Daruk didn’t try to cram his girth into Talion’s mouth. Instead, he pushed the tip against Talion’s slack lips. Talion tasted the salty tang of Daruk’s slit against his tongue. With his cock gripped in his hand, Daruk guided it up and down, rubbing the fat head against Talion’s numb, rubbery lips.

When the first spurt of piss hit the back of Talion’s throat, he thought he was going to choke. He hoped he would. Drowning in piss wasn’t the most dignified death, but at least he would be released from this. He would awaken somewhere else and return to wreak revenge on those who had misused him.

But he wasn’t so lucky. His throat worked reflexively, swallowing gush after gush of the salty liquid. Piss filled his mouth to bulging and ran out the sides of his mouth. It streamed down his chin and pooled on the ground, turning the sand from white to yellow.

The Uruks gathered around had begun to pull out their own cocks in varied states of arousal. A few joined Daruk in relieving themselves, drenching Talion’s clothes with their foul smelling urine.

When he was finished, Daruk grabbed Talion by the hair and threw him to the ground.

“Serve them well, Man Filth,” Daruk commanded.

The Uruks set upon Talion like wolves. Their hands were all over him, roughly stripping away his clothes. Within a minute he was naked and bleeding from a half dozen shallow claw marks.

Someone tangled their hand in Talion’s hair and thrust their cock into his mouth.

The Uruk fucked Talion’s mouth with such brutality, ramming his entire length down his throat and pulling out fully before driving back in again, that Talion barely noticed what was going on behind him.

A different Uruk had propped up Talion’s hips and was shoving fingers into his ass. Two, then three thick fingers plunged in and out of his tight hole. It should have hurt. Because of the potion’s numbing effect, Talion only felt pressure.

“Yes, stretch him out for me,” Krim the Warlock said. “But I want the first turn!”

The powerful hand on the back of Talion’s head dragged him forward, smothering him against the Uruk’s crotch. He couldn’t breathe with his nose pressed against flesh and a fat cock filling his mouth and throat.

The Uruk grunted as he came. His girth twitched against Talion’s tongue, spilling his seed so deep down his throat that Talion didn’t taste it. The Uruk humped his face a few more times, milking himself against Talion’s tongue.

Talion gasped for breath when the Uruk finally slid his softening cock out of his mouth.

“Give him here,” Krim ordered.

The Uruks guided Talion to straddle Krim’s lap, impaling him on his cock. Their hands left white prints all over Talion. While Krim fucked him, the others groped and pinched and rubbed themselves against his body, reveling in the novelty of his smooth skin.

Without warning, Krim hooked his hand around Talion’s neck and crushed their mouths together. His tongue probed inside Talion’s mouth, leaving no recess unexplored.

Somehow this was the worst. Worse even than the cock down his throat, worse than the piss. Talion couldn’t even flinch. His mouth hung slack and yielding to the intimate assault.

Talion’s head snapped back, yanked by his hair. Talion blinked dumbly up at the Olog towering over him.

“You are enjoying this,” Daruk said. “It feels good, my Uruks filling your unworthy orifices.”

With his mind still swimming untethered from the potion’s effects, Talion had no idea what Daruk was talking about. His words were untrue. Talion was trapped, drugged, and helpless to stop the Uruks from using his body. It certainly wasn’t enjoyable.

It wasn’t for another minute that Talion understood.

Daruk hadn’t been making an observation. He was giving a command.

Krim finished with Talion and heaved his limp body into the arms of another Uruk. This new rapist entered Talion at once, thrusting all the way into the hilt.

Before, Talion had been ignoring the sensation of fullness, which wasn’t hard to do in his partially numb state. But this time, the Uruk hit a spot that made Talion’s back arch and his hips jerk. The spike of pleasure made him gasp.

“Ha! Look at that,” jeered one of the Uruks. “The pink-skin’s getting off.”

Talion felt his treacherous cock growing hard. Even though it remained untouched, the tingling sensation swelled each time the Uruk slammed back in, helpless to ignore the slick pressure of the Uruk’s thick cock thrusting in and out and filling Talion so deep he could see the bulge through his own belly.

A low moan rose from his throat, unbidden and shameful, as his cock twitched and he came.

An Uruk rubbed his hand through the cum and smeared it across Talion’s face, like rubbing a disobedient dog’s nose in the mess it had made.

A hollow feeling filled Talion’s stomach.

It didn’t stop his body from betraying him again and again as the band or Uruks traded him around, taking turns fucking his mouth and ass and spilling seed across every part of Talion’s badly used body.

Daruk stood apart, watching Talion’s subjugation with no expression at all.

In Talion’s drugged state, he couldn’t tell how long it lasted. All the Uruks and their foul cocks blurred together. But eventually Daruk stepped in and hauled Talion up by the hair.

“That’s enough. You don’t want to break him, do you? We’ve only used him once.”

Talion didn’t think he could be brought any lower, but he was wrong. Daruk’s words made him realize: This wasn’t over. If Daruk was careful, as Talion knew he would be, the Olog would keep Talion for a long time.

Daruk walked him out to the posts.

Just as Talion knew he would, the Olog tied him up thoroughly. He was muzzled with an iron grate secured at the top and back by leather straps. Daruk bound the straps to the post so Talion wouldn’t be able to move his head more than an inch, making it so he couldn’t even escape by such grim means as bashing his own brains out.

“You! Grubworm!” Daruk barked at a nearby Uruk.

“What?”

“Guard this Shrahk. If you let anyone close, I’ll gut you like a fish.” Daruk looked at Talion, eyes darting up and down his battered form with his lip curled. “I’d guard you myself, but looking at you makes me sick.”

He left.

The potion’s effect drained away slowly. Talion could move his fingers first, wiggling them inside the canvas bag where they remained trapped. Then his legs. His mouth became his own again. But his movement was constricted by the thick leather straps Daruk had tied him with.

Talion wasn’t gagged. He could call out. But who would he call out to? In this stronghold, Talion had no allies.

He would have to wait for someone to get sloppy.

Celebrimbor was, for once, silent. He was still there. Talion could feel the elf’s power coursing through him, as impotent for now as Talion’s own power. But Celebrimbor offered no word of consolation.

The night passed. Talion faded in and out of consciousness.

The muffled shout of an Uruk brought Talion fully awake.

In the darkness beyond the post, Talion saw the guard lying on the ground with a figure standing over him. The figure stood, yanking his blade out of the guard’s back. It was too dark to make out their features.

When they stepped closer and into the faint wash of torchlight, Talion saw who it was.

“Ranger!” Ratbag exclaimed. He cast a quick look around to see if he’d been heard. “I heard the rumors that you’d got yourself captured, but I…”

His voice trailed off as he got a better look at the ranger. The Uruks had left him naked, baring skin mottled by bruises. Shallow slashes and bites were already scabbing over. Some of the white handprints from the sand floor were smeared, but others stood out in stark relief, perfectly revealing where Talion had been handled.

Talion was glad he couldn’t make out Ratbag’s expression in the dim light. He didn’t want to see.

Ratbag rushed over to him. He began sawing at Talion’s bindings, but his dagger’s dull edge barely frayed the tough leather.

From somewhere nearby, Uruk voices and footsteps rose in the darkness.

“No time,” Talion rasped.

“I can’t leave you!”

“Cut my throat.”

“What? I’m not gonna-”

“I’m the Gravewalker,” Talion reminded him. “I can’t be killed. Quickly! You can’t be seen here.”

Ratbag looked wretched. But he obeyed, gripping Talion’s hair with one hand and slashing the blade across his throat with the other. It was deep enough.

“Go,” Talion choked out, blood bubbling from his mouth.

Ratbag took a step backward. He cast a final, wide eyed look at Talion before running off into the night.

Warmth poured down Talion’s front. His consciousness flowed out of him along with his blood. Through swiftly blackening vision, Talion saw Daruk pound around the corner, weapon drawn.

Too late. The Olog wouldn’t be able to stop his bleeding in time.

As the darkness overtook him, Talion smiled.

* * *

Talion woke with a start. An icy fist gripped his chest until he looked around and confirmed that he was no longer bound in the Uruk stronghold.

The shelter where he found himself was a natural rock arch in a cliff. A fire was lit nearby, and Ratbag sat beside it. Ratbag grinned when he saw Talion sit up.

“Welcome back, Ranger.”

“Ratbag,” Talion said. “You put yourself at great risk to rescue me. I owe you a debt.”

Ratbag dismissed it with the wave of his hand. “It was nothing. Ratbag is the master of a hasty retreat.”

Talion probed his mind for Celebrimbor. He felt the wraith, but he remained silent. Talion lapsed into silence as well, staring out the shelter’s entrance at the endless stretch of rocky marsh.

Ratbag cleared his throat awkwardly. “Listen. Ranger. There’s probably some perfect thing to say after...you know. But if there are some magic words, nobody ever said ‘em Ratbag. So I donno what to-”

“It’s all right,” Talion interrupted. “I’m fine now.”

“No, you’re not,” Ratbag said. He paused. “But it will get better. You can trust me on that.”

The certainty with which Ratbag spoke made Talion feel sorry he hadn’t been there to rescue the orc when he had needed it. Or at least spoken the magic words Ratbag was certain existed somewhere, but which nobody had said to him.

Instead, Talion had always snapped at the Uruk. He had treated Ratbag as a pest. Talion felt ashamed, remembering it.

“Kinda funny, me rescuing you from the post,” Ratbag said. “It’s usually the other way round.”

“Except that I only threatened you with the blade,” Talion reminded. “And you actually went through with it.”

“Oy! You asked me to! You can’t hold that against me.”

The words weren’t magic, but Ratbag’s inane rambling was soothing, it it’s own way. Talion was glad he hadn’t woken up alone.

If he were alone, he would have too much time to think. What troubled Talion most wasn’t what Daruk had done to him. He was more disturbed by what Daruk had said. That he wanted Talion to feel what he inflicted on others. What it felt like to be controlled.

When Talion bent those Uruk’s will to his own, had they felt as helpless and demeaned as Talion had felt in Daruk’s hands, under the effects of the potion?

If so, how could Talion live with what he’d done- and what he would continue to do?


End file.
